What Is Done
by Amarielah
Summary: In a world where Obi-Wan took the chance to flee with Padme in time to save her life, Vader visits Padme in the aftermath of Mustafar. It isn't a pleasant encounter for either of them. (Suitless!Vader, Padme-still-alive AU.)


Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars.

Notes: This fic takes place in an AU with the same basic premise as Reunion of the Fallen (my VaderWan fic). Only in this version of events, Padme survived. But when she informs Obi-Wan that she intends to return to Coruscant to serve in the Imperial Senate, he lies and tells her that Luke and Leia died shortly after being born. For her protection as well as theirs. What's more, the ordeal leaves her reproductive system too damaged to have any more children. Still, she resolves herself to become the Emperor's most important supporter in the interest of making it difficult for him to get rid of her, so that she can undermine the Empire from the inside. And that leads to the following scene...

(Possibly the first in the series.)

**What Is Done**

Even with the mask hiding his face, she knew who he was immediately. Or at least, who he used to be. She remembered laughter, and a grin that could warm her on the coldest of nights. She remembered feeling like nothing in the universe could harm her, as long as she had his love.

She remembered waking up to find that her children – her twin babies – were dead, and that she would never have another child again. As dead as the children the man before her had slaughtered in the name of his new Empire.

"Lord Vader," she said, giving him a senator's smile. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

His figure shadowing her doorway was like a cold mockery of everything she'd ever shared with Anakin Skywalker in that very apartment, and she suddenly wished she had requested a new place to live. But the Chancellor – no, she reminded herself, the _Emperor _– had been quite insistent that such an important ally be afforded the luxury of keeping her old apartment; a rare honor that she could not have rejected without insulting him.

"I need no special reason to see my _wife_," he said, his voice an artificial bass, echoing strangely against the walls and transparisteel windows.

She tilted her head. "I'm afraid you must have me confused with somebody else, Lord Vader. There's no legal record of me ever having a husband."

He stalked closer to where she sat on her sofa, his rage oppressive like a miasma in the air. But she wasn't afraid. What did she have to fear, after all? She'd already lost everything. "I don't know what it is you think this will accomplish, _Senator_, but I will not allow you to play politics with _me_."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it," she said, smile widening. "You'd be hopelessly outmatched, after all – there'd be no challenge in it."

"I am no politician, it's true – but your political skills mean nothing in this new world," he snapped. "Not that they meant much before."

Padme felt a stab of indignation. "How short your memory is, my lord. Or have you forgotten that my political skills are the only reason that _you're_ still alive." She managed with great effort to keep a scowl off her face. "Though the galaxy might be better off now if I'd simply left you to Dooku's tender mercies."

A pause. "So you acknowledge that you know me, at least."

"I never claimed otherwise, my lord." She sighed, smoothed out the skirts of her gown. "I honestly have no idea what you hoped to accomplish by coming here. Did you wish to discuss your exploits on Kashyyyk? Or brag about the latest Jedi traitors you've killed? Perhaps you tracked down one of the Jedi I know personally, and wish to inform me of their demise?" She folded her hands in her lap, gazing at him cooly. "Or perhaps you've come for companionship of a more physical nature. Is that it?"

He said nothing, but reached up to press something at the base of his mask. There was a hiss as he pulled the black monstrosity up and off of his head, revealing blue eyes and tousled hair and a beloved, all-too-familiar face. But she didn't allow herself to look away, even as she felt the scabs on her heart breaking open to bleed anew.

His eyes were cold as he set the mask down on the table. "I'm tired of this game, Padme."

"There's no _game_, Lord Vader," she said, meeting his gaze head-on. "Only a little boy in a man's body who can't accept that his actions have consequences."

Yellow began to bleed into his eyes, reminding her of how he'd looked just before he'd throttled her on Mustafar. Instinctively, she braced herself for the feel of phantom fingers crushing down on her windpipe. "You look angry, my lord." She still didn't avert her gaze, lifting her chin defiantly. "Do you wish to strangle me again?"

That certainly seemed to have an effect. Suddenly, his eyes were blue again, and he looked as if she'd physically slapped him. "No," he said. "I didn't..." He shook his head. "I wouldn't. Not again."

"You'll pardon me if I'm skeptical," she said coldly. "Honestly, what did you expect to happen? You would come here and – what? Bully me into forgiving you? Snarl at me with those yellow eyes until I showered you with hugs and kisses?"

He opened his mouth as if to say something, only to close it, no longer able to meet her gaze. It was a victory of sorts, but it didn't feel like one.

"Our babies are dead because of what you did." She could feel her eyes beginning to burn, and hated herself for it. "Do you understand that, Anakin? They're dead, and I can never have children again. Because of _you_."

Still he said nothing. And she could tell that she was breaking his heart. But it was the least of what he deserved, after everything he'd taken from her. From the Galaxy.

"I can't remember their names," she said, and the tears were coming despite her attempts to stop them. "I'm sure I named them, but I can't remember what the names _were._" She drew in a breath, harsh and uneven, hating herself for losing control. "They're dead, Anakin_._ You..." Another gasping breath. "You slaughtered helpless children, and then you killed our babies. It's all I can think about when I look at you." She laughed, a little hysterically. "How _dare _you say that this is a game." Her hands were shaking, and she balled them into fists. "How _dare _you."

He was crying too, now, still not looking at her. "I don't know what to do," he said. "I never wanted to hurt you. I never..." He shook his head. "Obi-Wan turned you against me." He finally looked at her, his eyes pleading. "You were going to _die._"

Suddenly she was on her feet, angrier than she had ever been before. Angrier than she had even been at Nute Gunray, all those years ago. "_Then I should have died!_" she screamed, her eyes wide and wild even as tears continued to fall. She took a deep breath, then another, and raised a trembling hand to her forehead. "Leave," she said, so softly that it was almost a whisper.

"You don't have the authority to give me orders!" he yelled, still crying, and shaking, and his eyes infused with gold.

She sniffed, wrapping her arms around herself. "Please leave, Ani." She took another shuddering breath. "_Please._ It hurts too much to have you here." She closed her eyes, willing the tears to stop. But they didn't. "_It hurts."_

She couldn't see him anymore, but she heard something shatter, and the hissing sound of his mask as he put it back on. And then she heard his footsteps as he left.

His presence lingered, though, a reminder of everything she had lost.

The pain lingered as well.


End file.
